


Burn

by CaffeinatedJew



Series: Hamilton’s “fun times”. [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Historical Inaccuracy, Hurt/Comfort, alex gets a little hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 14:44:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9239465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaffeinatedJew/pseuds/CaffeinatedJew
Summary: Alexander is too busy writing to notice that the building is on fire.





	1. Chapter 1

Alexander loved his work. For a man who wrote like he was running out of time, it was very easy for him to get too enthralled in his writing. He would spend hours each day, never leaving his desk. Sometimes, he would even forget his basic needs such as eating, drinking, or even using the restroom. He was able to ignore the hunger better than he could ignore the throbbing in his abdomen. He was human, after all.    
  
One day, Alexander found himself in the same predicament. He was too into his work to notice anything happening around him. All he heard was the scratching of the quill on his parchment while the words flew through his head. He was on a roll, his eyes not leaving his paper even once. If he did not write this down, at this exact second, his other thoughts would join the fray and destroy this current one. He may not have had the best handwriting, but it was worth it when he was able to get his thoughts down on the paper. Many people knew not to interrupt Mr. Hamilton as he worked. The few people who ever came to his office in the first place were James Madison, Thomas Jefferson, occasionally his colleague Aaron Burr, and the President himself. George Washington. So, when a knock sounded on the large oak door to his office, Hamilton didn’t even bother lifting his head.   
  
“Who is it?”  
  
Alexander spoke quickly, trying to multitask. Usually, it would be no problem for him to speak while he wrote, but today he seemed to be having trouble doing so. Maybe it was something in the air. Flu season? No. It was maybe due to the heat. Thinking of the heat, Alexander tugged at his collar. It was oddly warm in the office for this time of day. Maybe he should open a window, let some air in? No. If he did that he would have to get up. He would have to disrupt his thinking process. He would have to stop writing. Alexander was not going to do that.  
  
The person on the other side of the door knocked once more. It seemed hurried, but the knocks were hard and firm. Alexander could only imagine who was on the other side. Not many people had the sense of authority, even while they knocked. They must not have heard Alexander answer.  
  
“Sir, if it’s you, I don’t even understand why you bother with knocking. You know you are always able to ask of my assistance, no matter what I’m doing.”  
  
With that, the door opened. Alexander finally raised his head as Washington made his way into the office, sweating up a storm. He did not look very happy as he stomped his way over to Alexander’s desk. The man in question stood, tugging at his collar once more. Washington was not the only one sweating. Was it getting hotter?  
  
“Sir? Is everything alright?”   
  
“Is everything alright? Son, do you have no clue of what is happening to your surroundings?”  
  
Washington had snapped, raising an eyebrow in confusion. With that, Alexander turned his head to glance around his room. Nothing had changed. Everything seemed to be the exact same...Aside from the billowing black smoke that rested against the ceiling of his office. Washington sighed when Alexander's eyes stayed focused on the smoke. Of course he hadn't noticed. If not for Washington, Alexander probably never would have noticed that the building was burning.   
  
“...Sir?”  
  
"Son, we need to leave. Now."  
  
With that, Washington was hoisting Alexander out of his chair. The younger mans eyes widened once he realized what his General was doing. He tried to protest, to grab for his papers. He had so much work to do, he can't just let this go to waste-  
  
"Sir, I can't leave I have so much work to do-"   
  
Washington cut him off, tugging the younger man away from his desk.  
  
"Alexander, you are leaving this office immediately! I understand your work is important to you, son, but your life is more important to this country than some papers.”  
  
Before Alexander can say anything back, the ground beneath them shakes. A crash is heard from down the hall. That must have been a support beam. They truly did need to leave before the building collapsed on them.  Washington had an alarmed look on his face that only turned to slight anger when he saw Alexander trying to write once more. He wasn’t even sitting at his chair, though. The young man was just hunched over his desk, writing like crazy. All emotion drained from Washington’s face as he sighed. Well, it seemed that he had to force Alexander out.  
  
The General grabbed the back of Alexander’s collar, and yanked, forcing him away from his work; much to Alexanders dislike. He then grabbed the younger man’s wrist and made his way out of the office.  
  
“Sir, I could have finished that paragraph- We need those papers, let me go back and-“  
  
Washington interrupted once again, “No, Alexander. We are leaving before we /both/ die. You’re lucky I came back inside to find you. By now, everyone else is outside and safe. What in your right mind made you think it was a good idea to stay in here while it burned to the ground? Did you not notice the heat- the smell of the smoke?”  
  
They were rushing down the halls, trying to crouch low to not inhale too much smoke. The two men were definitely sweating more. It seemed to be a hundred degrees hotter than it was earlier. How long would Hamilton have lasted if George hadn’t come back inside to get him? Would he even have made it out in time? Alexander huffed, trying, and failing to get enough oxygen into his system. How long was this hallway? It never seemed to take so long to leave the building before now.  
  
Alexander was thrown from his thoughts as Washington moved them to narrowly avoid another beam that had fallen. One thought then rushed to the young man’s mind.  
  
 He needed to get the President out of here.  
  
Taking the lead, Alexander grabbed his Generals wrist and proceeded to basically drag him down the hall. He was panting, but Washington was as well. They probably wouldn’t last much longer in here on their own.  Their faces were covered in soot and sweat, some of Alexander’s hair had flown out of its usual ponytail from earlier and was now sticking to his face. He ran a hand on the top of his head, trying to reign control of his hair, but did not make any progress.  Oh well. The most important thing right now was them making it out of here alive-  
  
Alexander hadn’t been paying much attention to his surroundings, once again, and was saved by Washington pulling back on his arm. If Alexander hadn’t had stopped, a section of the floor above them would have crashed down on top of him. With the crash, more soot flew in the air, causing Alexander and Washington to cough, trying to catch their breath.  
  
‘Sir, stay down I don’t think I can carry you out if you lose consciousness from smoke inhalation.’  
  
George made a face, ‘Son now is not the time to comment on my weight-‘  
  
Alexander cut in before his General could assume anything terrible, ‘No, sir, Muscle is actually up to four times heavier than fat, so really, it was a compliment. But sir, we really need to go, now-’  
  
They could barely get the air they needed into their systems while they spoke. Look at them. Two men casually making small talk in a burning building.  Alexander then turned them around and ran the opposite direction. He was not going to quit. His legs and lungs burned from the sudden exercise and smoke. His thoughts were getting unfocused, foggy, and his eyes were watering.  ‘Move, move, move’ was the only thought going through his head, and it was repeating constantly.  
  
Seeing that Alexander was beginning to get unfocused, Washington decided to take the lead once more. Moving faster than Hamilton, he began to lead the way. He was in just as bad of shape as Alexander was, but was able to focus better. That didn’t mean it wasn’t a huge surprise when George heard a loud crack, and turned around as a burning beam suddenly swung down hitting Alexander flat on his back.  
  
The younger man’s mouth opened in a silent scream as he fell to the ground, all of the air he had in his lungs had been forced out of him. The young man must have blacked out for a moment because when his eyes focused once more, Alexander was on the ground with George over him, a shocked expression on his face. He looked terrified. Wait- he was speaking? The younger man blinked a few times, before his ears finally caught up to his now conscious brain.  
  
“ –lexander! Alexander! You need to get up. I can’t carry you out there dead, son.”  
  
The young man groaned, shakily lifting himself on his arms. His hair was even more of a mess, now. His back was screaming in agony with every tiny move he made. He didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to get up. He wanted to lay there and fall asleep and let the pain wash away, but no. He couldn’t do that. Not when he had seen his General’s face in that state of shock and horror. He had children. He had a beautiful wife. He had to get up.  
  
So he did.  
  
He straightened his back, the best he could, before George grabbed his wrist once more and began running. Alexander was still dazed, his vision blurring as he and George ran. He was stumbling over his own feet, trying to keep up. If George hadn’t had him in a vice grip, he would have fallen.   
  
It seemed to be a miracle when he and George finally made it to the doors. Alexander heard his General wheezing out laughter as he pushed open the doors. Sunlight immediately hit their faces, making Alexander wince and close his eyes, while George just held a hand over his browline so he could see. He didn't stop moving, though. He continued running with Alexander to the other side of the street where everyone else who worked in the building had been waiting. As soon as George stopped, Alexander did, and people crowded around. They were laughing, cheering for George, and looking the General over. Alexander seemed to be forgotten for the moment.  
  
Forgotten to all but two people.  
  
Thomas Jefferson approached them, not looking as if he hadn't had to leave the burning building, too. His hair was still a large, yet carefully tamed, mess. His suit didn't seem to have even a single piece of fabric misplaced. He looked amazing next to Alexander, whose clothes were wrinkled, covered in soot, and torn in some areas. As a way of greeting Hamilton, attempting to be friendly, he patted the short man on his back.  
  
"Well, Hamilton, it looks like you've made it out alive. Congratulations. What were-"  
  
Jefferson was cut short by Alexander suddenly lolling his head, and pitching forward. He landed on the ground with a thud. A large black mark covered half of the short mans back.   
 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander wakes up.

It was at that time that Washington decided to turn back to see if Alexander was okay, only to not see him. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he turned to where Alexander had been standing. Washington would have thought that Jefferson and Hamilton had switched places very fast, if not for the look on Thomas’ face. He looked confused, but also like he was going into shock. What made him look that way? Washington tilted his head towards the ground, following Jefferson’s line of sight after the other had glanced up at him in shock a few times. Georges own eyes had widened once he saw the form of Alexander just lying there on the ground.  
  
Immediately, he broke away from the group of people that had been crowding around him to kneel by Alexander. He placed two fingers on Alex’s neck, hoping to feel a pulse. He did. He wasn’t dead, but he did need to get to a doctor.  
  
‘Son? Alexander, can you hear me?’  
  
George slapped lightly at the Alexander's cheek, trying to gauge any type of reaction from the unconscious man. Unfortunately, he got none.  He then grabbed Alexander's arm, and hoisted him up, supporting the younger man’s weight from under his shoulder.  
  
“Jefferson, I need you to get his other side, if you would.”  
  
The man in question grimaced, looking down at Alexander. A quick glare from George quickly shut down Thomas’ thoughts of the filthiness of his ‘enemy’s clothes, though. The next thing George knew, Hamilton was being held up by both him and Jefferson.  
  
“Sir, where are we to take him?”

The General hummed in thought.  
  
“His home.  A doctor can see to him there.” A small smile grew on George’s face. “Have you had the pleasure of meeting his wife and children?”  
  
Jefferson could only grimace once more and hum in response.   


* * *

  
_I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory..._  
  
****_has it finally gotten me?_  
  
  
Alexander didn't see anything. He couldn't feel anything. He didn't even know if he was still breathing. Slowly, his senses came back.  He was laying down, a breeze going over his shoulders. Was he not wearing a shirt? In fact, he didn't seem to have any covers on his upper half of his body, aside from a tight feeling around his chest. Yes, he was breathing, but it was tight and short. Pin kept him from breathing in too deep. What was he laying on, though? The familiar scent of his wife's perfume hit him. He was home? How did he get home? What happened? His eyes fluttered open, and immediately Alexander groaned. It was bright. No doubt their window had been opened to let in fresh air. He fought against his brain, opening his eyes even though he truly didn't want to. He was right, though. Alexander laid in his bed, the windows open and curtains billowing in the wind. Once his eyes were fully accustomed to the brightness of the room, Alex looked down at himself. What he saw did surprise him, slightly. His chest was wrapped in bandages.  
  
Before he could make any other observations, his bedroom door opened. Eliza, his wife. Alexander couldn't help but smile. His beautiful, beautiful, wife walked into the room, carrying what he assumed to be a tray for tea. She didn't make it very far into the room before gasping and almost dropping the tray. To save it, she placed it on the unoccupied side of the bed.  
  
"Alexander? You're awake? The doctor said it may not be until sundown that you may wake. Are you feeling well?"  
  
Eliza made her way to his side of the bed, and placed a hand on his forehead, taking his temperature.  
  
"Don't worry, my love. I am fine."  
  
The smile on his face hadn't left for even a moment. It did, though, when Eliza's expression changed from worried to angry.  
  
"What were you thinking? Staying in a burning building to write? Alexander, you could have died! You reckless man..."  
  
Alexander made to defend himself, but she gave him a pointed look and slid her hand down from his forehead to rest on his cheek. His mouth stayed shut.  
  
"Angelica would have slapped you. The only reason i'm holding back now is because I know you are still feeling pain. You have two broken ribs, Alexander. Not to mention a burn on your back. What possessed you to keep writing?"  
  
Alexander closed his eyes, tilting his head into Eliza's hand with a hum.  
  
"I needed to finish that project, Eliza. I didn't realize there was a fire. I was immersed in it. The only time I noticed something was wrong was when President Washington arrived at my office. He then escorted me out."  
  
Of course, he left out the part where he argued about staying and writing. If he had said that, there would be no doubt in him getting slapped.  Eliza let out a resigned sigh, dropping her hand from his face. She then moved back to the tray of tea.  
  
"Do you think you can drink something? It may help your throat feel better."  
  
Alexander blinked. He hadn't even noticed how raspy his voice had sounded. His mouth was dry and parched. Inhaling smoke and not rehydrating yourself afterwards probably was not a very good thing. He nodded, taking the cup of tea as Eliza offered it. He had been blessed with the best wife. Sipping from the cup, he cleared his throat. Immediately, his voice didn't sound as bad.  
  
"Thank you, my love."   
  
Eliza just smiled. "No need to thank me. There are two men here who do deserve your thanks, though. The President and Mr. Jefferson are sitting down in the foyer. Our children have been entertaining them while I made your tea. I do hope they're still there when I get downstairs."  
  
She chuckled, "I'm going to send them up so you can thank them for not leaving you to die in the street." Even while being demanding, Eliza was beautiful. "I also invited them to come to dinner once you are feeling better." With that, his wife left the room, closing the door behind her.  
  
It didn't take long for Alexander to hear steps coming up the stairs, and then to hear the same exact knocks as he did earlier today.  
  
"Come in." Alexander rasped out, taking another sip of tea to sooth his throat. Alexander almost prayed that Jefferson wasn't with his General. He wasn't able to do much in the form of fighting while he had broken ribs and was stuck in bed. His hopes were crushed, though, as soon as Jefferson entered the room behind George.  
  
He gave a small smile. He might as well act nice. For now.  
  
"Mr. President, Mr. Jefferson. Thank you for assisting me earlier. I'm not exactly sure as to what happened once we made it out of the building, but I know that my family is forever grateful for you two bringing me home instead of just letting me catch my death in the street."   
  
George gave a smile back, moving to Hamilton's side of the bed. Jefferson stayed by the door, even though it had been closed to give them privacy.  
  
"I couldn't just leave my right hand man out to die on the road, now, could I? Your wife has already been hospitable enough, Alexander. You need not to thank us any longer."  
  
Alexanders eyes shifted from George to Thomas. He let out a quiet sigh, before raising his tea cup slightly. A cheers to him, almost. "You too, Jefferson. Don't expect me to say something like that to you ever again, though. Has Eliza invited you to a dinner party for when I get better, or did she just say that to me in a way of scaring me?" Jefferson smirked, and George chuckled. "No, son, she did actually invite us. Your family is nice. I don't see why we shouldn't come to the invited small party. Right, Mr. Jefferson?"  
  
Thomas had been quiet. It was surreal seeing Alexander in bed looking so ill. Yes, they may have been rivals, but he didn't truly wish death upon him.  
  
"Yes. But you also owe me a new suit, Hamilton. Either that, or you're going to be paying to clean the one I wore today." Jefferson made a disgusted face. "You got soot and sweat all over it."  
  
At the mention of the soot, Alexander's eyes jumped to George. He had time to clean up. He was no longer covered in the remnants of the building.  
  
"Sir, how long have I been asleep?"  
  
"I would say for a good four hours, or so. Why do you ask?" The General sat on the foot of Alexander's bed, but still faced the younger man.  
  
'I was only wondering."   
  
The injured man finished his cup of tea, setting it on the tray that was still near him, and leaned back in his bed, letting out a quiet groan as he did so.   
  
"I'm still feeling very weary. Would it be disrespectful to ask that the two of you come back another time? You are still welcomed to the dinner party, of course."  
  
"Well, yes, it would-"  
  
"No, not at all, son." Washington smiled, standing from the bed, cutting off Thomas' sarcastic remark. "You need your rest. And I'm sure I do too. Thomas, would you mind running back to the offices, checking to see if the fire has been stopped? I would like to rebuild and get back to work as soon as possible."  
  
Thomas only nodded, leaving the room quickly. He didn't want to be there in the first place, so he had no problem leaving.  
  
George then nodded to Alexander.  
  
"I'll tell your wife that you're done with your tea.  _Rest_ Alexander. In a few days I'll respond to any letter that you may send me, but for now, you are on break. Do you understand?"  
  
Alexander frowned, shifting in his position. "Yes sir."  
  
"Good."  
  
With that, George left the room. He said his goodbyes to the family, and then made his way home.  
  
When Eliza came back upstairs to collect Alexander's tea tray, her husband was already asleep, snoring lightly. His head tilted up to the ceiling with how the pillow was positioned under his head. She smiled, closing the windows and curtains, before going and placing a kiss to Alexander's forehead. She left the room quietly, holding the tea tray.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Catch me on tumblr @caffeinatedjew 
> 
> Requests are open!


End file.
